


Ardour

by cortexikid



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, felicity and oliver go on a mission to italy, interesting discussions arise, oliver tells their mark that they're engaged, prompts from tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:29:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortexikid/pseuds/cortexikid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Felicity Smoak?” Felicity asked as she turned to him, her head tilted as she put on her earring. Oliver frowned at her from across the room, fixing his left cufflink.</p><p>“Felicity Queen?” he countered, with a quirked eyebrow.</p><p>At her pursed lips, he rolled his eyes, “Felicity…Smoak-Queen?”</p><p>She laughed, “that makes me sound like a monster from Lost.”</p><p>There was a beat of silence, in which she mourned the many, many references that flew over his head.</p><p>“I like it,” she smirked with a shrug. “I could totally pull off the woman-who-hyphenates vibe."</p><p>{Prompts I Receive From Tumblr}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Looks Better On Her...

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt from everyatomofmartydeeks on Tumblr: Olicity - role-reversal!  
> **  
>  Using the American spelling of 'Ardour' despite being European. What have you guys got against the letter U anyway? xD

"Absolutely not."

"Oliv--"

"No, Felicity. Digg can handl--"

"Digg's currently busy with you know, the tiny human being that he and Lyla brought into the world. I don’t think he’s really in the mood for skulking in the shadows, and guest starring in an episode of The Wire…” Felicity rolled her eyes, her arms firmly folded across her chest as Oliver stared up at her from his spot on the cot, ice-pack pressed against his injured knee.

“Oh don’t look at me like that. You know what The Wire is,” her eyes narrowed in suspicion as Roy snorted loudly.

“You think they had cable on Torture Island?” he muttered, making sure not to make eye-contact with the already-irate vigilante.

“You think just because I blew out my knee, I won’t still kick your ass?” the man in question growled, jaw clenched.

“Now, now, boys, play nice,” Felicity smirked as she held up the tiny microphone to Roy.

“Hook me up, Harper.”

The younger man gaped at her, then at Oliver, and back again.

“You—you’re actually doing this? Didn’t—didn’t the guy say he wanted to speak to The Arrow? As in the 6 foot, 180 pound, expert archer and not…you know—“

“The 5’4”, none of your business, expert in all things tech? Pssh. Semantics…” the blond dismissed with a wave of her hand as she turned her back to them, fiddling with the buttons on her blouse.

Oliver’s throat tightened, his pulse picking up speed.

“What—what are…” the words got stuck in his throat as she shirked off the garment, exposing the pale skin of her back, and the thin material of her dark purple tank-top.

Before either man could even blink, she reached for his green-leather hood, (from where he angrily threw it, limping into their new ‘Arrow cave’ following a particularly brutal altercation with bad-guy-of-the-week) and slipped it over her shoulders.

It was the sound of the zipper being pulled up that spat Oliver from his trance, an icy feeling rising in his chest as the reality of what she was going to do, set in.

“Felicity, you’re not doing this. It’s too danger—“

It was that moment that she chose to turn around, now clad in his patented leather, rendering him speechless. His eyes drank her in. But she wasn’t looking at either of them, instead, her gaze roamed over her arms and chest.

“Geez, Oliver. This thing is hot,” she gaped, running her hands over the leather, then winced as her brain caught up to her mouth, “hot as in warm, not as in…well, you know some people are into that kinda thing, whatever floats your boat, but I just meant that it’s kinda warm. That’s the reason I never got a leather couch. If I’m even just a little sweaty I’ll stick to leather like glue, so you’ll probably have to help me out of this when I get ba--”

“Felicity,” he interrupted, his eyes snapping shut with a wince, as his mind was now assaulted with images of her wearing his hood for a very different reason, and he graciously helping her out of it for a very different reason…

“Right, sorry,” she bit her lip, a flush rising in her cheeks as she cleared her throat.

“Okay…now that that’s over,” Roy piped up, diffusing the sudden tension in the room, “could I ask how exactly you’re gonna get around the fact that you’re clearly not The Arrow? I mean, no offense blondie, but I think they’ll notice that the vigilante suddenly shrunk and grew long hair…and not to mention, you know…boobs.”

Felicity shook her head at him, as if mentally wondering how she managed to align herself with such a pair, before crossing over and laying her hand on Roy’s shoulder.

Oliver watched from his perch on the cot, noticing that, ignoring the most glaring differences, the scene was very much like many he and Felicity had shared over the years, their roles now reversed, as she lay her assuring hand on her friend’s shoulder, mirroring Oliver’s well-worn gesture.

An irrational sense of jealousy of Roy being the one she assured spiked in his chest, he cursing his bad knee even more.

“Oh young padawan, much to teach you, I have,” she grinned at Roy with her best Yoda-voice, before swiftly pulling the hood up over her head, turning in Oliver’s direction. 

He stopped breathing. When she first put it on, his breath had become laboured, but now, it had actually stopped. The sight of her, hooded up, standing tall even in her small frame, looking frankly more formidable than most would give her credit for, did something to him. Fleetingly, he wondered if he was developing some kind of complex, but before he could properly freak out about where his thoughts were going, he realised Felicity was saying something to him.

“Uh…what?”

Her stance broadened, her boot-clad feet firmly planted.

“I asked, from a distance, a height, in the dark, and masking my voice using your device, can I pass as The Arrow to a man who is new to town and has only heard about you?”

A short silence met her words, Oliver struggling for something, anything to say, to argue and confirm that yes, despite all her points, this was surely to end badly.

Only to come to the conclusion that she had a point. He was out. So was Diggle. Roy had to be hidden in the shadows to come to her aid if needed, and at the end of the day, it was just a conversation with an investigative journalist that was getting far too interested in The Arrow and his activities.

What could go wrong?

The twist of his gut reminded him from past experience, a lot. A lot could go wrong.

But, they had no other option…

“I suppose…with those parameters, you could…pass. Just make sure of a good and quick exit strategy—“

“We got it,” Roy assured him, remembering the extensive plan that he and Felicity concocted not an hour ago – even if it was when he still thought she was joking.  
Felicity strode across the room, kneeling down on one knee and meeting Oliver’s gaze, her hand reaching out and gently falling on his shoulder, her fingers brushing against the skin that was exposed under his T-shirt.

“We’ll be careful, I promise. And will be back before you know it,” she smiled softly, before her eyes flickered to his left.

With her other hand, she reached down and picked up his mask, holding it out in front of him.

“Care to do the honors?” 

Oliver stared down at it for a moment, before meeting her eyes again. Slowly, he reached up and pushed the hood back off her head. His ignored the spread of warmth in his chest as his fingers brushed against hers when he took the mask, and focussed on slipping it over her eyes, fixing the clasp under her hair that was pulled back into a bun, and adjusting it slightly on the bridge of her nose, fighting the urge to caress her now masked-face.

“So…how do I look?” she asked, her voice small, her breath catching a little as her eyes, now somehow more striking than ever, flickered over his face.

“Like a hero,” he replied without having to think about it, to whit she chuckled loudly, as he pulled the hood back up over her head.

“And what exactly,” Oliver began, as he watched her stand and take up his bow and quiver (purely for show, of course) in hand, “am I supposed to do while you’re out being me?”

A dazzling smile broke out on her face, it still so recognisable to him even masked and under a hood, that he often wondered how some people that knew him still hadn’t identified him yet. Yet admittedly, that could have more to do with the fact that her face was something that was firmly etched into his thoughts and dreams, rather than being a reflection of his skills at being incognito…

“Oh,” she broke through his musings, plucking something from her desk and stepping back over to him, holding it up for him to take. 

Oliver’s brow furrowed in confusion. It was a comm. 

“You Mr. Queen,” Felicity continued, her smile widening even more as she handed him what he knew to be her spare tablet, “are going to be my Girl Wednesday…”


	2. Mistaken Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the man drank in her in, a flicker of appreciation registered in his features, before he flashed her a large smile.
> 
> “Are you Ms. Laurel Lance?” he asked, waiting patiently as she gaped at him.
> 
> “Uh, no. I’m not,” she replied, her brow furrowed in confusion, wondering why and how the hell this guy could ever mistake her for Laurel, but not having the time to find out.
> 
> “Oh,” his eyebrows rose in surprise, his tone and face apologetic before he stuck out his hand, “I’m Richard Grayson, so sorry for the mix-up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **To those of you who enjoyed my first instalment, I will probably continue it sometime in the future.**   
> **For now, another Prompt. This one is from dreamyuniversestuff – Oliver, Felicity, and a case of mistaken identity…**   
> **I also changed Dick to Rick because I have the mental maturity of a twelve year old. Enjoy!**

“Miss! Hey you, Miss! Excuse me!”

Felicity Smoak hurried on, ignoring the voice, and weaving in and out of the crowd. She had just six minutes to get in and out of Delaney’s office before he was due to make his way back.

“Miss!” the voice sounded loudly in her ear as she felt a tap to her shoulder. It seemed she hadn’t moved fast enough.

“Get rid of him, Felicity,” she heard Oliver muttered into her comm. Habitually, her gaze flickered over to where he was standing at the bar, clad in his only remaining tuxedo after losing his fortune, efficaciously distracting Delaney, clapping a hand on his back and catching her eye over his shoulder, giving her a subtle nod. 

Quickly, turned on the spot, her navy dress swishing a little.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely, meeting the tall, dark-haired man’s gaze, her head tilted as she felt the precious seconds tick by.

As the man drank in her in, a flicker of appreciation registered in his features, before he flashed her a large smile.

“Are you Ms. Laurel Lance?” he asked, waiting patiently as she gaped at him.

“Uh, no. I’m not,” she replied, her brow furrowed in confusion, wondering why and how the hell this guy could ever mistake her for Laurel, but not having the time to find out.

“Oh,” his eyebrows rose in surprise, his tone and face apologetic before he stuck out his hand, “I’m Richard Grayson, so sorry for the mix-up.”

Felicity stared at his hand for a moment, before reaching out and shaking it quickly.

“That’s alright. If you’ll excuse me—”

“I didn’t catch your name,” Grayson interrupted, his fingers tightening around hers ever so slightly, preventing her from pulling away.

Felicity’s brow furrowed in confusion, increasingly aware of precious time being wasted.

“Um, it’s Felicity Smoak. So sorry to be rude, but I really have to—”

“Break into Edgar Delaney’s office? Yeah, I know,” Grayson cut across her nonchalantly, as if they were discussing the weather and not the fact that he seemed to know she was trying to expose Delaney for the human-trafficker he was.

“What—”

“I just thought you’d want to know that what you’re looking for isn’t in his home office. He has a secondary location,” he finished, a smaller smile gracing his face, apparently pleased with himself.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Felicity replied, pulling her hand from his, her eyes darting around, trying to catch a glimpse of Oliver or Digg.

“Oh, no need to be alarmed Ms. Smoak. I won’t hurt you. And I’m sure Oliver has his eyes well-trained on me by now,” Grayson murmured, his blue-green orbs twinkling under the dim light of the ball-room. 

“You never did know when you weren’t wanted, Dick,” Oliver’s voice suddenly sounded to Felicity’s left, he stepping close to her and gently laying a hand on the small of her back in reassurance.

_How did he manage to sneak up behind her? The man was a frickin’ ninja._

“I go by Rick now, actually,” the other man deadpanned, his eyes locked with Oliver’s for a moment, before he turned his attention back to Felicity.

“No offense to the stunning Ms. Smoak here, but I thought you would have had taken Laurel to a fancy function like this…she apparently being the love of your life, and all.”

Felicity felt Oliver tense, his fingers flexing against her back.

“It’s been a long time since we last saw each other, Grayson,” he said in lieu of a direct response to that statement, finally meeting Felicity’s confused gaze.

“And how is it that you two know each other?” she asked, trepidation rising in her chest.

It was Grayson who stepped forward, dazzling smile still present on his admittedly-handsome face.

“Oh me and Oliver here go way back. We even have a _friend_ in common…Amanda Waller. You know her?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I’ve been thinking about writing a Dick Grayson/Nightwing story for a while now and this prompt just helped me get it off the ground. Thanks so much dreamyuniversestuff! I may continue this one too :)**


	3. Of Tattoos, Cartoons, and Ridiculously Difficult Songs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’ve got a tattoo? Where?” Oliver blurted, before he could stop himself.
> 
> Felicity heaved a sigh, punching Digg’s shoulder, who chuckled loudly, looking all-too pleased with himself.
> 
> “I’ve got two, actually..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Wow, the prompts are flying in :O Keep them coming! If there’s anything you’d like to see, put in your requests either via Tumblr (my username is octoberobserver) or down below :) Enjoy!**
> 
>  
> 
> **Prompt from msnoahshaw – “You have a tattoo?”**

“You have got to be kidding.”

Oliver Queen turned to her, eyebrows raised in surprise, an almost scandalized expression on his face.

“Is that judgement I’m hearing?”

“Yes.”

His mouth dropped open, rushing to defend himself, when she held up her hand.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong…tattoos can be…sexy. Your ones are very—” she broke off, with a shake of her head, before continuing, “tattoos can be incredibly artistic, and a celebration of the human body. I’m all for that. But really, Oliver, Johnny Bravo?” Felicity winced, her eyes squinting behind her brown-rimmed glasses.

“On his ass,” Diggle piped up helpfully, a shit-eating grin on his face at his friend’s embarrassing youth decisions.

“I didn’t actually get it,” Oliver rolled his eyes, turning away to hide the fact that a blush was steadily rising to his cheeks.

The cheeks on his face! Not the…other kind.

“But you considered it,” Felicity deadpanned as Roy snorted.

“It was Tommy’s idea…he was obsessed with the cartoon when we were kids. Which probably explains why he got slapped by a lot of girls in Middle School…And we were drunk,” Oliver shrugged, picking up another arrow to sharpen.

“Been there,” the younger man murmured almost to himself.

“Why, does young Mister Harper have an embarrassing tattoo?” Felicity asked in a faux-English accent, swirling around in her chair to tilt her head at him, her interest peaked.

Roy blanched for a second, the thought of needles making him shiver, before he forced a smirk, “and mar this,” he responded, pointing up and down his body, “forever? Hell no. I have done some stupid things drunk though…”

“And sober,” Oliver quipped, ignoring the glare he got in reply.

“What about you, Felicity?” Diggle leaned on the back of her chair, smirking down at her with a knowing glint in his eye, his voice teasing, “you got any tattoos?”

The I.T. Genius narrowed her eyes at him, remaining silent.

Oliver and Roy exchanged a glance.

“No way, blondie…” the younger man whistled lowly, as Oliver crossed the room to stand in front of her, before he could stop himself, blurting:

“You’ve got a tattoo? Where?!”

Felicity heaved a sigh, punching Digg’s shoulder, who chuckled loudly, looking all-too pleased with himself.

“I’ve got two, actually,” she murmured as she stood up, kicking off her heels, shrinking significantly in height.

Oliver seemed frozen in place, starring down at her as she grabbed hold of her ankle and pointed her left foot in his direction.

To his surprise, he saw the words “Dream Big” etched in fancy cursive across her instep. 

“How have I never noticed that before?” he gaped.

“I don’t know Oliver, do you usually spend a lot of time studying women’s feet?” she asked as she lowered her foot, making no movement to put back on her shoes, instead heaving a deep sigh.

“Oh I’m so implementing No Shoes Saturday,” she breathed, her eyes falling closed as she basked in the relief of ridding herself of her heels earlier than normal.

Oliver’s eyes travelled across her face, drinking in her momentary blissful expression, a warmth rising in his chest at such a sight. After a moment, something occurred to him:

“I thought you didn’t like needles?”

“I don’t,” she answered, her eyes still closed, “I really don’t. But, I’ve conquered the fear with a stiff drink. Or five. They both mean something to me…so getting them just felt…right,” she sighed before shrugging.

“What’s the other tattoo?” Oliver asked, the words erupting from his mouth.

Maybe she really was starting to rub off on him.

He winced at he thought those words, a very Not Safe For Work image accompanying them in his mind. Yep. She was most definitely rubbing off on him…

Felicity’s eyes darted open, a little wild, before she broke eye contact altogether, turning a little away from him, muttering something under her breath.

“What was that?” he asked, stepping a little closer, unadulterated curiosity ensnaring him.

“Uh…first line of html code I ever wrote,” she mumbled, still avoiding his gaze.

Oliver let her words sink in, having a feeling that she wasn’t being completely honest with him.

He could feel Digg’s eyes on them. Oliver turned towards him, aware that he clearly knew something that Oliver didn’t, half-covering an enigmatic smile with his hand, but opting to remain silent, his eyes still sparkling with mirth at their friend’s obvious embarrassment.

That just fuelled the vigilante’s curiosity more.

“Where is it?” he felt compelled to ask, not able to catch her eye, but was rewarded with an even deeper flush of red spreading up her neck and colouring her face, she biting her lip and nodding, as if mentally deciding something, before meeting his gaze.

“I…can’t show you,” she replied, breaking eye contact again, opting to glance towards Roy.

“Why?” Roy asked, looking nearly as curious as Oliver felt.

“It’s…” she turned her head to Diggle, a look of helplessness mixed in with her evident annoyance that he seemed to be enjoying this so much.

“Let’s just say, it’s in a…sensitive place,” he came to her aid finally, although looking no less sympathetic at her plight.

Oliver’s heart skipped a beat at the implication. Trying not to let the spike of something that felt a lot like jealousy show on his face, he cleared his throat, and mentally willed his voice not to crack:

“Have you seen it?”

Diggle snorted, “hell no! But, you know how loose Felicity’s lips can get when Lyla supplies her with that red wine from Mario’s. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time while they were bonding by sharing private stories…”

“Eavesdropping, more like,” Felicity grumbled.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you guys left the baby-monitor on, and I happened to hear everything when feeding my hungry son in the next room,” Diggle smirked, holding his hands up in surrender.

Felicity huffed, and with a roll of her eyes, collapsed back down on her chair, stretching her legs out in front of her, apparently ending that line of questioning.

Oliver found that he couldn’t take his eyes off her feet, he trailing over the words on her skin.

_Dream Big..._

Well, she certainly did that.

And lived big too…

Roy, apparently having lost interest when it came clear she wasn’t divulging anymore, went back to the dummy, as Diggle, with a wink to Oliver, turned on his heel and walked across their new lair, to where his guns were displayed.

After a moment of silence, Felicity tapping her nails on her desk, and swinging her legs back and forth, (the movement incredibly distracting to Oliver who was still transfixed by the blotting of ink on her skin) she suddenly spoke up:

“You can stand there all day, Oliver. I’m not going to show you my other tattoo…so, you might as well go look up binary online and use your imagination,” she finished, turning her chair away from him completely, facing her computers again.

“I thought you said it was the first line of html code you ever wrote?” he asked, his voice tinged with faux-innocence as he caught her in a lie.

He saw her shoulders tense at his words, a no doubt smart comment about him knowing the difference between html and binary, on the tip of her tongue. 

But before she could retort, he decided to let the topic drop, for now. Not willing to admit to himself, that the thought of what it might actually be, and exactly where on her body, would likely haunt his dreams for many years to come…

“So, tattoos. What else you hiding, Ms. Smoak?” his tone light, as he stepped around her chair, leaning against the desk, his head tilted down at her, “anything you’d like to share?”

Felicity chanced a glance up at him, entertaining the idea of reminding him that he was the king of hiding secrets, but upon seeing the almost mirthful expression on his face, decided to play along, ever grateful for the lighter moments they had been sharing more of lately, and the subject of tattoos finally cast aside.

She had had a feeling it would eventually come back to bite her on the ass (or someplace else altogether) even before she was in the chair, but once her eyes landed on the picture of a small, slender arrow…her decision was made.

I mean, it wasn’t like he’d ever see it, right?

Another blush rose on her cheeks at that thought.

He shifted a little against her desk as he waited on her reply, catching her attention and pushing her thoughts away from the well-worn fantasies stored in the back of her mind. Her eyes locked with his as she fought to summon something, anything to reply with, before a rare memory of her childhood made her smile gently. 

“Well…Tommy wasn’t the only one that had an obsession with cartoons as a kid.”

Oliver’s eyebrows raised, interest peaked.

“Oh really? What was your favourite?”

“Animaniacs…” she trailed off nonchalantly, before shaking her head at the ridiculousness she was about to admit: “I can sing all of the Nations of the World song...”

She had completely expected for that reference to fly over his head, like many before had, but was shocked at his response.

“You’re lying.”

She snorted, swivelling around to fully face him.

“Why the hell would I lie about that?!”

Oliver shrugged, his arms folding across his chest, his eyes challenging.

“Prove it then.”

She gaped at him, wondering how two twenty-something-year-olds who fought serious crime on the daily, could possibly get into such a discussion.

At her silence, the vigilante quirked an eyebrow.

“Seriously?” she asked, “what are you, twelve?”

“Hey, you’re the one that apparently knows all the words to a kid’s song…” he grinned, a rare laugh escaping his throat.

Felicity’s heart lurched at the sound. It was always a treat to hear him laugh. Even if it was at her expense…

“Kid’s song my ass! Do you know how difficult a song with no chorus, no bridge and no repeats of any kind, is to learn when you’re any age? Let alone six?” she asked hotly, somehow morphing from feeling embarrassed at her ridiculous ‘accomplishment’ to feeling a little defensive of it.

“Hey, I know Bohemian Rhapsody,” Oliver fired back.

“You want a medal? Practically everybody knows that song,” she dismissed him with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey blondie, why don’t you shut him up with a little singing, huh?” Roy called from his spot at the dummy, eyeing the two with a bemused expression on his face, Digg moving to stand beside him in solidarity, they both well-versed in their friends’ bickering by now.

Felicity ignored the two of them however, her eyes trained on Oliver who was still looking at her with a silent ‘well go on’ expression.

“Ugh, fine! If it’ll wipe that smirk off your face…” she shook her head, leaning back in her chair, not breaking eye contact as she opened her mouth, and began to sing:

“United States, Canada, Mexico, Panama, Haiti, Jamaica, Peru…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: So…that happened. Full disclosure, part of that conversation is kinda based on a true story. I may have been at a party last year, where Animaniacs came up in conversation. I may have then found myself drunkenly singing Nations of the World. Yeah, I learned it when I was kid. Took ages because I had to keep rewinding the tape. The 90s struggle was real, folks haha! Now I cringe every time I see the post on Tumblr xD**
> 
>  
> 
> **The 'Dream Big' tattoo is based on EBR's real (or what I think is real anyway) tattoo from what I've seen in pics.  
> **  
>  Oh and let’s just say, Felicity’s arrow tattoo is on her very low lower waist… ;) 


	4. Home Sweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Penny for your thoughts?”
> 
> Felicity jumped, whirling around rapidly, her bag clutched tightly in her raised hand, ready to strike before she caught sight of the intruder, her shoulders slumping.
> 
> “Could you not do that?! You almost gave me a heart-attack!” she exclaimed loudly, her eyes falling on Oliver who had descended the stairs like the frickin’ ninja that he was.
> 
> “Did they teach you to teleport in vigilante school or something, David Rice?” she asked, her heart still racing from the shock.
> 
> Oliver frowned.
> 
> “Right, right…on an island for five years, a little pop-culture deprived, I know,” she waved a hand before heaving a sigh, “honestly, my awesome references just go right over your head. Why do I even bother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: So, I changed the spelling of the title back to British English. It just hurts my little Irish soul to leave out the U. Sorry Americans – I do love your inclusion of the ‘Z’ in words (like realize and characterize etc.) though :) I like mixing it up spelling and grammar-wise is what I’m saying. (I’m wild, I know.) Anyway, you don’t care about that – let’s get on with the Olicity goodness!**
> 
>  
> 
> **Prompt from NewObsession via FF.net – “Where have you been?”**

With narrowed eyes, she glanced around her, slowly taking the last step down into their new lair. It was silent, more so than it had been since they’d moved in a month prior. After a lot of hard work, repositioning from Verdant and setting up in their current location, it seemed that everything was finally coming together. She had her desk all set up, her babies all in working order (as much as she could make them with having limited means of replacing and repairing the damage caused by Slade-gate) and the boys had their various toys in designated areas too.

Roy with his target practice.

Digg with his gun display.

Oliver with a brand-new glass-case for housing his hood, along with an abundance of space to train.

And, Felicity was happy to note, even a place for the salmon ladder. That just so happened to be in her direct line of sight.

Not that she noticed, or anything…

With a sigh, the tech genius’ eyes drank in the space. It was just one of the many, many changes that had befallen their team in the last few weeks. A change that she was sad to see happen. The foundry had become somewhat of a second home to her over the near two years she spent there. She had been the one to re-vamp it during Oliver’s five-month sabbatical, adding little touches of herself to the ‘man-cave’ feel it once had, and therefore felt a strange pull towards it. It was after all, key in not only being their base of operations, their home away from home, but a place of safety, a tie forever tethering her to The Arrow and his world.

But Slade and his minions ruined all that. Made it unsafe and exposed. Now, it was if that tie had been severed, and in its place, a void had formed.

Perhaps she would get used to it in time, but for now, she couldn’t help but notice that it felt as if something was…missing. It didn’t quite have the feel that the ‘Arrow Cave’ had. It was disconcerting, and admittedly bothered her more than she let on to the rest of the team. She silently wondered if they felt the same way, but hadn’t brought it up, not wanting to cause complications with something they could neither change, nor control.

This was their ‘lair’ now. Period. No amount of homesickness or misplaced melancholy, would or could change that. She had to accept that if—

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Felicity jumped, whirling around rapidly, her bag clutched tightly in her raised hand, ready to strike before she caught sight of the intruder, her shoulders slumping.

“Could you not do that?! You almost gave me a heart-attack!” she exclaimed loudly, her eyes falling on Oliver who had descended the stairs like the frickin’ ninja that he was.

“Did they teach you to teleport in vigilante school or something, David Rice?” she asked, her heart still racing from the shock.

And from something else entirely, that same something she refused to think about since leaving that godforsaken island for hopefully the last time, but dreamt about constantly. Stupid subconscious. 

Oliver frowned in response to her words.

“Right, right…on an island for five years, a little pop-culture deprived, I know,” she waved a hand before heaving a sigh, “honestly, my awesome references just go right over your head. Why do I even bother?”

“Well, you could always say Scotty beams me up,” he shrugged, stepping forward, “I’d get that.”

Felicity’s eyebrows raised, before tilting her head pensively.

“Hmm...not quite the analogy I was going for, but, A for effort, Queen,” she flashed him a small smile before taking another deep breath, and slowly letting it out.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice laced with something she couldn’t quite identify as he stepped closer to her, his eyes raking over her face.

It was then that she realized, this was the first time they’d been completely alone in their new lair. An intensity rose in her at that thought. It was the first of many firsts, and it served to remind her of another intensity that always lay under the surface of every one of their shared moments of the last month, the memory of…that night.

Trepidation rose in her stomach like a fluttering of butterflies’ wings.

“Where—” she broke off, clearing her throat, feeling the compulsion to say something, anything, to break the silence and get her away from her wandering thoughts, “where have you been?”

Oliver watched her silently for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, before he turned around, walking back over to the stairs and picking up a large box (one of many) that she had failed to notice.

Without a word, he walked back over to her, placing the slick white cube at her feet.

“Oliver what—”

“Open it…” he cut across her, his eyes a little lighter than she had seen them in a long time.

He almost looked…cheerful.

She found this to be contagious, her heart skipping a beat, overjoyed at the fact that he had in some small way, found something to lighten the darkness that shrouded him, especially during the last few months. With everything that had happened, his mother’s death and Thea’s subsequent disappearance (that they were all still working themselves to the bone on,) she was afraid that he would traipse back even further into the gloom, and honestly, she wouldn’t blame him if he did. But, like many of the things Oliver did, he surprised her. 

Ever since their last jaunt from the island, he had made an effort not to shut himself off. She had fully expected him to isolate himself and go on a desperate one-man-tirade, after Roy finally broke the news to him about Thea after they returned from Lian Yu, much like he did after his mother died, but he in fact did the opposite. He embraced the team, letting them help on getting her back, and even spending more time than ever before hanging out with them outside of Arrow business.

 

Well, he spent more time hanging out with Felicity. 

They had struck up somewhat of a routine. He had stayed in her guest room for a short while before finding himself a small apartment that he could afford on what little money he had left. She had told him he could stay as long as he liked (she admittedly enjoyed the company, and not to mention felt safer him being there) but he insisted that he didn’t want to over-step and to her chagrin, left after a little over a week. 

She had thought that would be the end of them actually spending more time together outside of an Arrow situation.

Again, he surprised her. While he may have had an apartment to go home to now, that didn’t stop him from arriving on her doorstep with pizza and her favourite wine after a long day, and crashing on her couch having fallen asleep during on of their many TV marathons. Nor did it stop him from bringing her coffee most mornings, or going grocery shopping with her on the weekend – something he hadn’t done in a long while, if ever, she guessed.

There had no doubt been a definite shift in their dynamic, that much she knew. And she couldn’t help but bask in moments like this when his eyes sparkled, and a little lightness broke through the cranks of his battered soul.

She didn’t know what caused this light, but she was eternally grateful for it, nonetheless.

“Fe-li-cit-y,” he snapped her out of her reverie gently, an eyebrow arched as he waited for her to say something.

Her mouth dropped out a little.

“You…got me a present? It’s not my birthday,” she gaped, her eyes lowering to the enigmatic box at her feet.

“I know. But, I thought that there was something a little off about this place…and thought this might help,” Oliver shrugged, before gesturing to the box.

“Go on, open it…”

Her eyes found his once more, flickering in silent question, before bending down and lifting the lid. Rummaging through the sheath of bubble-wrap and protective padding, her fingers finally brushed against something. Biting her lip, she pulled away the last remaining coverage and let out a loud gasp, as her eyes landed on what lay beneath.

The Satellite Frequency Communicator TX50.

“Oliver…” she gaped, her eyes rising to meet his, “what—”

“I couldn’t put my finger on what didn’t feel right about this place,” he interrupted, shuffling a little, his hand flexing minutely, his thumb and index finger rubbing together, “then it hit me. Me, Diggle, Roy - we all got our own small sense of re-branding, our own little changes to fit in with all the others. Except you…” he trailed off, looking towards her computers that certainly not in their usual pristine condition.

“This place…” he began softly, offering her his other hand to help her straighten up, which she silently accepted, her heart hammering in his chest, “it needs more Felicity Smoak 2.0. And what could help more with that than some classified equipment that you could put your remarkable skills to?”

Felicity, with tears welling up in her eyes, for the first time in what seemed like her entire life, was at a loss for words. So, she expressed herself in the only other way she knew how – standing up on her tiptoes and embracing him, her hands clutching the material at his shoulders.

Oliver stilled for a moment, before relaxing into the hug, one arm coming to rest on her lower back, his fingers sprawled across the fabric of her dress.

They stood like that for a long moment, neither willing to break the embrace. 

“Oliver I…” Felicity sighed, her face pressed into his shoulder, her voice a little muffled as her lips connected with his shirt as she spoke, “thank you so much. But I can’t accept this, it’s too—”

“Hey,” Oliver stepped back a fraction, hand still pressed against her as he caught her eye. 

“The best equipment is needed for the best skillset. You do remarkably already, but this can only help you be even more badass,” he smirked as she blushed, shaking her head at him, “and besides, without you, we never would have captured Slade, and Waller would have had to commit mass genocide, so she kinda owes you.”

 

Felicity’s eyes bulged at his words.

“So you actually got this from A.R.G.U.S?”

He nodded, “Digg may have mentioned how you ‘fan-girled’ – his words, over it when you went to them to ask for help finding me…”

“I may have touched it inappropriately,” she conceded, causing a chuckle to erupt from him.

She did love the all-too-rare occasions when he laughed.

“Felicity I—” he broke off. She could feel his fingers flexing against her back, and if she looked down she knew she would see his index finger and thumb rubbing together again.

He was nervous.

She offered him an encouraging smile.

She could have sworn she saw his eyes flicker to her lips for a moment, before they snapped back up to meet hers.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she waited patiently for him to continue.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver’s hand tightened ever so slightly around her, “Felicity I…owe you too. So much. Without you, I would never have been able to defeat and capture Slade. I wouldn’t be able to catch those who harm this city…hell, I probably wouldn’t even be alive, instead bleeding to death after my mom shot me,” he shook his head, his voice catching a little at the mention of his mother.

Felicity trailed her hand down his shoulder before catching the hand at his side, squeezing it gently, stopping the nervous tick.

Oliver’s eyes closed for a half a second, a sigh on his lips before he was looking at her again, his gaze heavy with sincerity, “I just want you to remember, every time you look at that screen, that I—you mean so much to…this team. We couldn’t do this without you. We’re not…‘Team Arrow’ without you. And this ‘lair’ will be all the better with more you in it…”

Her heart lurched as his words rang in her ears. She had never expected, or indeed wanted, thanks for what she did, that was not why she did it, but his words were so sincere and so meaningful, especially coming from him. A warmth spread in her chest as she gave his hand another gentle squeeze.

“I can’t believe you actually said ‘Team Arrow’ and ‘lair’ in the same sentence. Roy will be so pissed he missed it,” she smiled.

“I’ll deny everything,” he deadpanned.

A silence befell them as her conveyed through her eyes her gratitude for everything he said, and for everything leading up to this: first his ridiculous but always amusing lies, then his trust in her to help him in his time of need, then his friendship, then their partnership and now…now something that was on the cusp of being so much more, that it equally elated and terrified her.

But that was an exploration for another day.

An ease that she’d never felt in this place suddenly settled over her, as she savoured the touch of his hand against her back, his other rubbing soft circles into her palm.

Taking a deep breath, she welcomed the change of ambiance, feeling for the first time that this really could be a good change, and she was fine with that as long as Oliver was there, Digg and Roy too. They really could make this their new home, all of them…

A large grin broke out on her face at the thought of the new chapter they were now well and truly embarking on.

And what better place to start than introducing her new baby to her others?

Nudging Oliver’s shoulder, she gestured behind him to the other boxes by the stairs, unable to keep the smile off her excited face, “well then, make yourself useful. You do the lifting, I’ll do the assembling. If we finish by five, I may even treat you to a burger at Big Belly’s…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I’m still taking prompts so feel free to drop me one if you’d like :)**


	5. Four Syllables...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Troubling use of the word ‘we’ there,” Felicity deadpanned, a surge of dread mounting from the pit of her stomach.
> 
> “Well, her ad does say couples…” Oliver trailed off, with a quirk of his eyebrow.
> 
> “So bring Laurel,” she shot back, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her eyes burning a hole into his forehead.
> 
> “Yeah, ‘cause that won’t be awkward for everyone involved,” Roy muttered, shaking his head.
> 
> “Felicity…” Oliver began, his voice soft.
> 
> “Save it,” she held up her hand, “I’ll agree under three conditions. One, I don’t have to say anything. Not a word. No point in making the scam easier. Two, I will under no circumstances give that woman my real name. And three, you’re paying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Anonoymous Prompted - Oliver and Felicity meet a psychic who has some pretty interesting and insightful things to say...**

"They’re like The Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, and hot British actors that have no qualms with dating their fans."

At Roy’s confused squint, Felicity rolled her eyes.

"Wishful thinking," she clarified, "as in, they don’t actually exist, and are instead something people want to believe in at one point in their lives…"

"Hot British actors that date their fans are like Santa Claus?" Diggle asked, wiping his brow with the back of his hand as he and Oliver finished their sparing session.

"In the likelihood of actually existing, yeah," she shrugged, not meeting his gaze.

"Someone sounds bitter," Roy laughed as Felicity blushed a little.

"Hey, I implore you to find me anyone that hasn’t once fallen for Cumberbatch’s voice, Hiddleston’s smile, or Tennant’s hair," she pointed an accusatory finger at the younger man as she walked back over to her chair to sit down.

"I don’t know who any of those people are," Oliver piped up with a puzzled expression, coming to stand beside Diggle.

"It that case, we’re totally adding a ton of British shows to our TV marathons," Felicity grinned, her hand thrown over her head as she swivelled in her chair, eyes sparkling.

"You walked into that one," Diggle muttered under his breath with a smirk.

"Hey, it’s a gift, not a punishment…one episode of Sherlock and you’ll be thanking me," she smirked enigmatically, before a loud ping sounded from one of her computers.

As her eyes scanned the monitors, Oliver stepped closer to her, “so are you actually going to tell us why you have such a harsh opinion of psychics or are we supposed to guess?”

With a sigh, she turned and stared up at him, her jaw clenched.

"They’re charlatans. Con-artists. They take advantage of the emotionally vulnerable, and make up lies to cheat people out of their money…what’s to like?"

Each man’s eyebrows shot up at her response.

"Speaking from experience, blondie?" Roy pondered, arms crossing over his chest.

"No!" she chided, her eyes hardening a little before her shoulders slumped, "yes. Kind of. My mother had weekly visits with one for years after my da—" she broke off, clearing her throat.

"Anyway, the woman was shark. I guarantee this one is too," she nodded, her tone unwavering as she turned back to her screens.

"We already got her on credit card fraud, shouldn’t be too hard to convince her to turn on Corlino…" she murmured almost to herself.

From her peripheral vision she could see Oliver’s eyes rake over her, his head tilted.

"Looks like Mrs. Harrison has an appointment with The Arrow in her future," Diggle smirked.

Oliver spun around, his expression pensive.

"I don’t know Digg…it’s been a while since Oliver Queen had his palm read."

Felicity sat forward in her chair at his words.

"You cannot be serious."

"There’s no need to tip her off yet. She could easily run to Corlino before we can get to him. This way, we can take a look around without raising suspicion," he replied, his tone even.

"Troubling use of the word ‘we’ there," the blonde dead-panned, a surge of dread mounting from the pit of her stomach.

"Well, her ad does say couples welcome…" he trailed off, with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"So bring Laurel," she shot back, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her eyes burning a hole into his forehead.

"Yeah, ‘cause that won’t be awkward for everyone involved," Roy muttered, shaking his head.

"Felicity…" Oliver began, his voice soft.

"Save it," she held up her hand, "I’ll agree under three conditions. One, I don’t have to say anything. Not a word. No point in making the scam easier. Two, I will under no circumstances give that woman my real name. And three, you’re paying."

~*~ 

"I can’t believe we’re actually doing this," Felicity scoffed under her breath, shuffling in her seat as Oliver threw her a glance from his spot beside her.

"I wonder what the cards has in store for Starling City’s newest couple?" the smug voice of Roy Harper trickled into their ears via comm.

"How’s that song go?" Diggle piped up, the smile evident in his tone. "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a bab—"

"I can see some very embarrassing high school photos falling into Lyla’s hands in your future if you don’t shut the hell up," she gritted her teeth warningly, just as the door in front of them opened, revealing a rather demure, middle-aged woman smiling at them.

"Thank you for waiting. Please, come in," she spoke with a faint accent, motioning into the room behind her, turning her back and walking towards a large, round table.

"Thank you, Mrs. Harrison. I’m Oliver, and this is my girlfriend, Meghan," Oliver smiled his obligatory charming smile, his hand falling to the small of Felicity’s back as they made their way into the minimalistic, office-like room.

"Gloria, please, none of this Missus business, makes a girl feel old," she scoffed lightly. "Please, take a seat."

As they sank into the chairs, Oliver, making a point to gesture around, remarked, “I have to admit, this is not exactly what I expected…”

"Oh, few do…" Gloria waved her hand, taking a seat opposite them, "honestly, it’s my impression that most people think of crystal balls and dream-catchers when they hear the word ‘psychic.’ I however, take a…less-stereotypical approach to my craft."

A soft snort erupted from Felicity. Oliver shifted, laying a hand on her knee in warning. She stared down at it under the table, where it was resting just below the hem of her dress.

Her throat went dry.

"I don’t need to consult my cards to see you’re sceptical, Meghan," Mrs Harrison smiled, her eyes drinking in her guests.

Felicity’s eyes snapped up, a little flushed at the inspection, sharing a fleeting glance with Oliver who cleared his throat.

"She’s here more as support…this isn’t really her thing," he murmured, eyes turning back to meet the older woman’s.

"Well, that’s okay. If you’re not comfortable, you’re free to just observe as I give a reading to Oliver…it could give me a chance to win you over," she replied, flashing Felicity another smile.

Silently, Felicity nodded before Mrs. Harrison sat forward, addressing Oliver, “your hand, please.”

Leaning over, Oliver placed his other hand in hers, his eyes doing a sweep of the room, looking for anything out of place.

"I won’t mince my words, Mr. Queen. Your past, at least before and a little after your five year absence, has been made quite well known to the public. I won’t waste your time regaling you of things I could have easily determined from publications and idle gossip. Instead, I’d rather look…deeper," she paused, her dark eyes catching his, before flickering quickly to Felicity, and back again.

"You said on the phone, that you were seeking some guidance…a little insight into your future?" she asked, turning Oliver’s hand in hers.

Felicity sat back a little in her chair, trying to mask her surprise at this information. She knew Oliver had to call to make the appointment, but she had no idea what he had said to get them there.

"Yeah, an insight would be nice," he responded, feeling Felicity’s gaze on the back of his head.

"Hmm…" Mrs. Harrison hummed, her fingers trailing over his palm, "it’s no secret that you haven’t had much…luck in the love department in the past. But," she paused, her eyes rising to meet Felicity’s, "I have a feeling that is about to change."

The blonde’s throat tightened at those words, her heart hammering in her chest as she felt Oliver’s fingers tense a little on her knee.

"You said your relationship…was in its infancy?" the elder woman continued, her eyes slipping closed.

Oliver took that moment to catch Felicity’s eye, silently communicating their next course of action, taking his hand off her knee.

She tried not the miss the warmth.

"We’ve been dating for about two months," he replied with ease, his mind recalling the agreed back-story they brainstormed the night before.

"Hmm…" Gloria hummed, her brow crinkled, as Felicity bent down slightly to pick up her bag.

"I don’t think so," she said suddenly, halting Felicity’s movements, her eyes jerking back up to stare at the woman.

"Uh…excuse me?" she couldn’t help but ask, speaking her first words since entering the room.

Gloria’s eyes snapped open then, her fingers paused on Oliver’s hand.

"I said, I don’t think so. What you two have…has been going on a lot longer than two months…"

Felicity’s eyebrows shot up, her jaw clenching angrily, images of ‘Miss Clarice’ her mother’s psychic from when she was a kid, flashing vividly across her mind.

"And what is it we have exactly?" she heard herself ask before her brain could catch up with her.

"Your relationship…it is one based on a remarkable friendship," Gloria responded without a beat, "the romantic elements however…while there from the start, haven’t fully come to fruition yet."

Oliver and Felicity stared blankly at her in silence.

With a roll of her eyes, Gloria motioned rapidly between them, exclaiming:

"No sex!"

The tech genius’ mouth dropped open, her startled eyes catching sight of Oliver’s hand twitching in her peripheral vision, her mind reeling, having absolutely no idea what to say to that.

Instead of letting loose the babble that wanted to desperately claw its way out of her throat, she hurriedly thought that this might be the opportune time to make her hasty retreat:

"I’m so sorry, but could I use your restroom?"

Gloria smiled all-too sweetly, “why sure dear, it’s just down the hall and the second door to your left. Would you like for us to wait for you before continuing?”

"N-no, that’s okay. You go ahead," Felicity stammered as she stood up, her treacherous cheeks burning as the woman’s words echoed in her ears.

Why did she agree to this ridiculous sham again?

Without as much as a backwards glance, she scurried over to the door and stepped out, closing it with a snap behind her and made her way down the corridor, her eyes darting around to find where the woman could possibly keep her personal laptop. She had given the room she just left a good once over and couldn’t see it anywhere, or indeed a place within the room where it could be kept. That left the rest of the house to explore in the time it would take a normal person to visit the bathroom.

Fantastic.

"I hope I didn’t make the poor girl uncomfortable," she heard Gloria’s concerned voice in her ear via Oliver’s comm.

She rolled her eyes as he quickly responded, “oh no, she just had too much coffee and was cursed with a small bladder.”

Back in the room, Gloria chuckled at the charming man in front of her, before leaning forward once more, regarding him with a more sombre stare.

"I can see you’re scared," she murmured quietly, "and I can understand that, Mr. Queen. You have had your fair share of strife in your short lifetime…anyone could understand your…hesitance…" she trailed off, her eyes searching his for something unknown.

"My…hesitance in what?" he found himself asking, more so to give Felicity time to find something useful, than actual curiosity.

He wasn’t buying what this woman was selling.

"Your hesitance in letting yourself have what you really want," Gloria continued, squeezing his hand. "I can see it in your eyes, Oliver. The fear you have of letting somebody in…to open up that part of yourself completely to another person. To share your life with someone you truly care about…"

Felicity straightened up suddenly, stopping her search of Mrs. Harrison’s bedroom as those words rang in her ears.

"Perhaps…that’s why you have not taken the next step with Meghan? That same fear…that she means more to you than you’re willing to admit?" Gloria prodded, her eyes flickering to Oliver’s left hand as it jittered, her gaze softening.

"The way you look at her…it’s plain to see, even within a few moments of meeting you both, that if you were to take that step, to admit just how deeply you actually are in lov—"

"Aren’t you meant to shuffle around a deck of cards, or something?" Oliver interjected suddenly, Felicity snapping out of her reverie at his voice, she frantically realizing how much time she wasted on eavesdropping when she was supposed to be searching.

Now was not the time for startling personal reflections…even if the so-called psychic woman was making some very intriguing, if incredibly unthinkable, points…

Gloria’s stared at him for a long moment, drinking in every inch of his face. After what seemed like an eternity, her eyes narrowed, her face hardening somewhat as she heaved a sigh, her shoulders slumping, “I know why you’re really here, Mr. Queen. And what your companion is really doing while pretending to use my facilities…”

Felicity’s hand froze on the laptop that she just uncovered from under the woman’s bed.

"Excuse me?" Oliver asked, his voice giving away nothing.

"Bob Corlino," Gloria pushed back her chair, standing up, her back rigid, all pretence evaporating from her.

"You made?" Digg’s voice floated into Felicity’s ear as she, with shaking hands, booted up the laptop.

"I—I don’t know," she stammered, her eyes gluing to screen, "I’m just pulling up info now but it could take awhi—"

"Who’s Bob Corlino?" Oliver cut across them, feigning confusion as Gloria laughed.

"Oh don’t try con a con, Mr. Queen…" she smirked, "I gotta say, when I got a call from the infamous Oliver Queen, this was not what I was expecting…"

"Shouldn’t you have foreseen this? Being psychic and all?" Oliver asked hotly, deciding to roll with the heightened ambiance of the room, and change tact.

"Funny," she chuckled, "and they say you’re just a pretty face…"

"Who’s they? The spirits?" he shot back with a smirk.

"That’s mediums," she grinned with a point of her finger, "now that that’s cleared up…let’s get your not-yet-lover back into the room where I can see her."

Felicity stilled, watching the download bar reach 51% as she copied files from the laptop.

"Oliver, I’m not finished! What do you want me to—"

"Meghan’s not a part of this," he began, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms, "I came to check out your operation myself. A buddy tipped me off to a possible con-artist in the area, and I wanted to see it for myself before reporting you to the police. But as far as Meghan knows, I’m here to get my palm read, or fortune told, or whatever other scam you’re running."

Gloria stared down at him, her expression unreadable before she reached into her pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes.

"And here I thought it’d be The Arrow who paid me a visit," she responded cryptically, placing a cigarette between her teeth and lighting it.

Felicity desperately urged the download bar to move faster as she heard those words. 78%…

"Guess a tall man clad in green leather is too much for an ol’ gal like me to hope for, huh?" Gloria gave another chuckle, inhaling deeply.

"Or is it just too bright outside?" she continued with a wink.

"I don’t know what you’re—"

"Again, Mr. Queen, with the lies," she held up her hand, "no offense, but you’re incredibly bad at it. Really, I’ve no idea how you’ve gotten away with it as long as you have…" she laughed, before walking over to the desk and snatching up something off the table.

"You want Corlino? Fine. I’ll give you everything you need to take down not just him, but the entire smuggling operation. ‘Meghan,’" she paused, emphasising the name with air-quotes, "won’t get everything from my laptop. So…here," she finished, holding out a manila folder in front of him.

As Oliver reached out to take it, she snatched it back an inch, her eyes boring into his, “let me make myself clear. Just because I may not be able to prove who I know you really are, that doesn’t mean I won’t kick up hell trying…but if I give you this, and every incarnation of you leaves me the hell alone, in return, I’ll graciously keep any suspicions I have to myself,” she paused, holding out her hand, her eyes glinting, “we got a deal?”

Oliver stood, his eyes on the folder, taking it from her with a sharp pull, quickly leafing through it. After a few moments, he closed it again, with a nod.

"You stop taking money from innocent people and we’ve got a deal, Mrs. Harrison," he retorted with a hard stare, holding out his hand.

After a moment, she sighed and begrudgingly shook it.

Felicity’s blood was boiling. The nerve of that woman! Finally, the download was complete, and within a split second, she was reefing the USB from it’s port and shoving it into her bag, hissing:

"Are you kidding me, Oliver?! I can get the dirt we need. You don’t have to make a deal with this woman to—"

"Thank you for your time, Gloria. It was very… _enlightening_ ,” Oliver cut across Felicity, turning on his heel and making his way towards the door.

"You know, it’s funny," she called after him, causing him to pause, his hand on the door handle.

"It seems," Gloria continued, stubbing out her cigarette on the desk, and walking towards him slowly, "when it comes to you and your lady loves, over the years their names go up by one syllable."

Oliver turned around to face her, tilting his head.

She shrugged, a smirk playing about her lips, “first, there was your elementary school crush, Claire. Second, your intense high-school-sweetheart, Laurel. Then there was the one you like to forget…the one who nearly changed your life in a big way. Sandra. Then, your last fling before the island, the wild and forbidden, Sara. Then…someone else. Her name also began with an S and had two syllables…your time on the island is still quite blocked to me. After the island, you seemed to move onto three syllables, like with the misguided Helena Bertinelli. Only for you to fall back with Officer McKenna Hall…and Laurel…and Sara again…” she trailed off, her dark eyes glistening, “you should always look forward, Mr. Queen, never back.”

Oliver stared down at her, the gears in his mind grinding as she gave another care-free chuckle, “that’s why I was so surprised to learn of your companion’s name,” she stepped even closer to him, their gazes locked, her tone sombre, “I have to say, I was quite expecting the _love of your life_ to have a four syllable name…”

Felicity froze as she went to step back out into the corridor, her heart lurching.

 _It’s a trick, a scam. Don’t believe the lies. You are not the love of Oliver Queen’s life!_ she berated herself silently.

"I thought you weren’t psychic?" Oliver fired back, his mouth on autopilot.

"Goodbye Mr. Queen…" she winked, before reaching around him and opening the door.

Shaking his head, Oliver stepped out in the corridor, walking towards the front door, his eyes landing on Felicity who was standing on the threshold, her expression one of a deer caught in headlights as he led her outside.

"It was nice meeting you…Meghan. You are going to have quite a fulfilling future with this one, I can tell. If you ever want your cards read—" Gloria paused at Oliver’s glare, "it’ll be free of charge, of course," she flashed them an enigmatic grin, before slamming the door in their faces.

~*~ 

"So…is anyone gonna say it, or are we just gonna ignore the giant elephant in the room," Roy was the first to break the silence that had descended on the team since Oliver and Felicity were left standing on the Harrison’s doorstep.

"We got what we needed, there’s no point dragging up—"

"Dude, she knew you were The Arrow. Knew that you wanted information on Corlino and just happened to have it right there to bargain with. She knew pretty much all the women you’ve dated. Including Shado, when you were on the island. How could she possibly know that? I didn’t know that till recently, and I’ve been running around with you shooting people with arrows! And what about that whole four-syllable-named-woman that’s meant to be the love of your li—"

"Roy!" Oliver snapped, cutting the younger man off mid-rant as he paced back and forth back in their new lair.

Digg for his part, was only nodding, and Felicity…hadn’t spoken a word in the last hour.

With a glance to where she sat, back to them at her computers, Oliver sighed, “she never said Shado’s name, so she doesn’t know anything about the island. As for everything else, she obviously did research on me, hired a P.I. or something. I don’t know. I don’t care, either. She has absolutely no evidence of anything. And it’s not like the SCPD take much stock in what psychics with criminal records say either. This isn’t The Mentalist.”

"Really? That you can reference?" Felicity whirled around in her seat suddenly, sounding scandalized, "I would have totally gone with Psych…"

Oliver merely stared at her as she stood up, slung her bag over her shoulder, flipped her hair out from her coat-collar and walked towards him.

"We’re totally adding Psych to our TV marathons too…after we binge-watch Sherlock," she informed him softly, not quite meeting his eye, before nodding to Diggle and Roy, “‘night boys…"

The three men watched her go silently. Once she had ascended the stairs and was out of ear-shot, Diggle leaned over to Oliver, a knowing smile on his face, “so, about this woman you’re in love with that has a four syllable name. Can’t be too hard to figure out who she is…there’s not many names out there, right? I mean, off the top of my head, I can only think of a few: Elizabeth, Olivia, Victoria, Felicity…” he trailed off, his smirk widening.

Oliver tensed, glaring at his friend as he laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah man, you didn’t have to go to a psychic to figure that one out. I coulda told you that. And it wouldn’t have cost you fifty bucks either…"

**A/N: I love both The Mentalist and Psych btw. But Psych will always be my first love. I miss it so much :( Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to send me a prompt if you like :)**


	6. T-Shirt Bandit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh!" Felicity exclaimed as Oliver clearly overestimated the amount of strength needed to pull her off the floor, tugging her on top of him, her chest crashing against his now-naked one, propelling them both back into the couch.
> 
> Slowly, she opened her eyes where she had snapped them shut mid-fall, only to be met with a rare sight indeed, Oliver Queen, smiling brightly, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
> 
> "I just hit against your gunshot wound, you really shouldn't be enjoying yourself so much," the words spilled from her before her brain could catch up with her mouth, flushing deeply as she realized their position, she sitting in his lap, her knees either side of his waist.
> 
> She thanked every deity that she had decided to wear pants that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **broken-geminii sent - I want to see Oliver basically being a big cat with Felicity (snuggling, mayhaps a purr or two) so if you work that into another prompt I’ll love you forever!**

"Alright big guy, let's just…get you inside," Felicity Smoak gasped, a little winded, as she shifted the giant mass of 6'1", 180 pound Oliver Queen from her position under his arm.

"Okay Fe…li…city…Felllllicity, Felissss…ity," he slurred, leaning most of his weight on her, his breath bouncing off her neck, his lips dangerously close to her now-flushed skin.

"Guess Digg gave you…a lot more of his…special aspirin, huh?" she struggled to reply, her knees buckling under his weight as they made their way up to her front door.

"Ihaveahightolerancesohehadtogivemetons," he rambled, leaving no beat between words, a frankly adorable grin on his handsome face.

She rolled her eyes as he stared down at her dopily, his cerulean gaze sparkling in the twilight.

Gently, if a little disjointedly, he reached up and captured a tendril of golden hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail, twirling it around his finger. She stilled, key half-way to the door, barely breathing, as he brushed it back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She managed a watery smile as she let herself truly look at him for the first time since he came back to the lair, blood spilling from shoulder, staining his fingers a murky crimson.

That gun-shot would likely haunt her dreams for many, many months to come…

"You did good today," he murmured softly, chasing away her darkening thoughts, blinking slowly as he swayed a little on his feet.

Felicity let out a humourless laugh, unlocking her front door, and side-stepping across the threshold, gently taking hold of both his hands and walking backwards into her hallway.

"I got you shot," she swallowed the lump in her throat, "it was hardly my best day at the office."

He halted his weighty and lethargic trodding across the room, and squeezed her hands in his, his large fingers tracing circles around her knuckles.

"It wasn't your fault," he replied, sounding clearer than he had in the last hour, his face sombre.

She merely shook her head, and continued walking backwards, her eyes raking over his tall frame, looking for any signs of discomfort. She had told Digg to load him up with as much 'aspirin' as he could handle without overdosing, and it seemed, if Oliver's current state was anything to go by, he had delivered.

"Okay, you come over here and sit down. I'm gonna go get some supplies and will be back before you know it," she half-whispered, placing her hand on his uninjured shoulder and gently pushing him down onto the couch.

He gazed up at her, his head tilted to one side, looking more like a confused golden retriever puppy with every passing second.

"Oliver…stay," she couldn't help but faux-order with a pointed finger, a soft smile gracing her face as his misty eyes narrowed slightly in retaliation.

She found him in the exact same position as she left him, five minutes later, her arms now laden with first aid supplies and a large, clean T-shirt. Depositing everything on the coffee table behind her, she knelt down in front of him, it taking a second for him to focus and catch her eye.

"Hey…you fallin' asleep on me?" she asked, ignoring the very nice image those words conjured in her mind, as her hand rose to cup his cheek, her thumb sweeping across his skin.

"Is that…my T-shirt?" he mumbled groggily, peering at the black piece of fabric peeking out from beneath her first-aid kit.

Felicity felt her cheeks heat up at his words. She had hoped he wouldn't notice in his altered state.

"Um…yeah, it is. You—you left it here one night, after crashing on my couch. I—I threw it in with my laundry…forgot I still had it in the back of my closet, until now," she responded, avoiding his gaze in fear of being caught in a lie.

Oliver merely nodded however, his fingers stumbling over the hem of his T-shirt, his torso twisting slightly as he tried to pull his bloodied material from off him.

"Whoa, whoa, stop! You'll pull your stitches," Felicity scolded, leaning forward and resting her hands on his knees.

Attentively, she reached up towards him, halting her fingers just above the hem of his shirt.

"May I?" she asked, trying to control her breathing and remind herself of the circumstances in which she was removing Oliver Queen's clothes.

It wasn't exactly the scenario she had pictured over the years…even if it was the most plausible one.

He gave a jerk of his head and with slightly shaking hands, she began to pull the damp garment up his body, faltering when she got to his right shoulder. Clearing her throat, she rose up higher on her knees, trying to ignore the fact that she was now kneeling in between Oliver's thighs, and bent his right arm at the elbow, slipping it out from under the shirt.

Oliver blinked almost owlishly, the fabric bunched at his right collarbone, his freed arm resting in his lap. This was the most drugged up she had ever seen him. And she'd seen him drugged up a lot.

Diggle really didn't do things in half-measures…

"Okay Oliver…we gotta get your head out now," she told him, just as he turned to face her, their noses a mere inch apart.

Felicity froze, her eyes raking over his face, he looking incredibly worn, tired…jaded. Her heart lunched in her chest as she thought back on all that had transpired tonight. How she had nearly lost him…again…and suddenly, it was all rushing to the surface. The panic, the worry, the agony of having to listen to her best friend, the man she—Oliver getting shot, hearing him fall to the ground with a heavy thump, all while she sat back in the lair at her computers, completely powerless.

"It's like…déjà vu, right?" he broke her out of her spiralling reverie, his breath brushing her lips.

At her questioning creased eyebrows, he smiled gently.

"The day I told you who I was…when my mom shot me," he clarified, his eyes unfocused again, clearly thinking back on that moment.

"I always did wonder how you managed to heave your giant self into my tiny car," she chuckled, her fingers gripping his uninjured shoulder, silently reassuring herself that he was fine.

"Not easily," his nose crinkled as he spoke, before he tilted his head even closer to her.

It took her a moment to realize that the motion was for her to pull the shirt over his head. Biting her lip, she took the fabric, and as gently as she could, slipped it over and off Oliver's head in one swift movement, her fingers following it down to his injured shoulder and deftly letting it fall onto the couch.

"There, that wasn't so bad," she said almost to herself, before she sat back on her heels and grabbed the first aid kit.

"We just gotta change the bandage and then we can get you something to eat," she continued, ripping open the packaging, grumbling when it fell to the floor and began rolling under the couch.

"No, no—ow!" she yelped, her head connecting roughly with Oliver's knee as she tried to retrieve the bandage.

"You okay?" Oliver asked, wincing a little.

"I'm—I'm fine," Felicity nodded, horrified as tears sprung to her eyes, threatening to spill over.

"I-I guess I'm just in a whole world of fail. First, I get you shot—" her voice broke, throat clenching painfully as she wrung her hands, head hung low.

"Hey—hey," Oliver bent down, taking her hands in his and pulling her up towards him in one swift movement.

"Oh!" Felicity exclaimed as Oliver clearly overestimated the amount of strength needed to pull her off the floor, tugging her on top of him, her chest crashing against his now-naked one, propelling them both back into the couch.

Slowly, she opened her eyes where she had snapped them shut mid-fall, only to be met with a rare sight indeed, Oliver Queen, smiling brightly, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"I just hit against your gunshot wound, you really shouldn't be enjoying yourself so much," the words spilled from her before her brain could catch up with her mouth, flushing deeply as she realized their position, she sitting in his lap, her knees either side of his waist.

She thanked every deity that she had decided to wear pants that morning.

He didn't say a word, however, instead reaching out with his good arm and righting her skewed glasses, an enigmatic expression on his face.

"Well I better…" she motioned to get up off him, but before she could move a muscle, Oliver's hands fell to her hips, holding her in place.

She gaped at him, heart thumping wildly in her chest as she revelled in the pressure of his fingers against her.

 _You're the sober one, Felicity. The responsible one. The one that doesn't have enough drugs in your system to make a horse do the conga. Take control of the situation!_ she scolded herself mentally.

Before she could continue her cerebral reprimand however, Oliver was tilting his head at her, his smile transforming into a more sombre expression.

"Felicity…" he sighed, his thumbs rubbing back and forth against her hips in a motion that was very distracting, "what happened tonight was not your faul—"

"It was Oliver!" she interjected, her azure orbs flashing behind her glasses, "I'm your eyes. Or at least I'm supposed to be, in those kinda situations. I should have seen him coming. I should have warned you, but I didn't. I failed you…" she trailed off, a wave of shame rising from the pit of her stomach.

Oliver leaned forward, catching her cheek in his hand, turning her head towards him.

"You didn't fail me, Felicity," he spoke seriously, "it was a hostage situation. There were people running everywhere…it was chaos. There were blind-spots. There were five million other vari—vari," he shook his head dazedly before taking a breath, "it happened. And there was nothing you could have done…" he trailed off, before his eyes brightened a little, "you'd never fail at anything, are you kidding? You're so amazing they named a TV show after you," he finished, hoping that for once he could be the one to lighten the mood.

"Oliver Jonas Queen…" she gaped, "are you voluntarily telling me that you, Mr-suave-ex-party-boy-extraordinaire, actually watched the classic 90s show about the life and love of Felicity Porter?!"

He rolled his eyes at her tone, "Laurel never missed an episode so… neither did I," the distain evident in his tone as he paused, his expression turning pensive, "it helped that Keri Russell was hot…is she still hot?"

Felicity chuckled, "yep."

"Good."

"I don't think that show was named after me, though," she smirked, "it debuted when I was like, ten."

"Ugh, you make me feel old."

"I'm only three years younger than you!"

A silence shrouded them as they stared at each other, he happy to note that her face had brightened somewhat. The sight of her soft smile, one that he put there, cause a warmth to spread in his chest.

"You helped save the lives of twenty five innocent people today," he continued quietly, yet just as seriously as before, "it was a win, Felicity. Don't talk yourself out of a victory…" he completed, knowing his words were quite similar to ones she had once said to him.

She gazed down at him, her hand on autopilot as it raised to his face, her thumb stroking his cheek.

Oliver's eyes slipped closed at her touch, a wave of calm passing over him.

"You getting hurt is never a victory," she lamented, before she caught sight of his injury again, wincing, deciding that sitting in his lap any longer would certainly not do anyone any good. Physically or mentally.

"Okay," she murmured, clamping her hands on his, gently pulling them from her waist and untangling herself, awkwardly standing, and running her palm over her face as it shone with embarrassment.

"Let's get that bandage changed…"

Neither spoke as she gathered the supplies and took a seat to his right, turning her body towards him.

Biting her lip in concentration, Felicity gently removed the soiled bandage, grimacing at the sight of the puckered, raw skin underneath, which was stitched together with thick, black thread. She couldn't help but ponder just what number scar this would turn out to be.

"This may sting a little," she half-whispered, grabbing the cream Diggle gave her and dabbing some on her fingers, before softly patting around the wound, keeping her eyes focused on the task, not trusting herself to look up into the warm, trusting eyes of her partner-in-crime-fighting, for fear she would see discomfort on his face, and thus feel another wave of guilt at having been (at least partially) responsible for his current state.

"There, all done," she announced as she finished applying the new bandage over his skin, reaching across to retrieve the fresh T-shirt, and holding it out for him to put his good arm through.

Once she had eased the shirt onto him, she sat back, satisfied with a job well done, with minimal discomfort for him (if a lot embarrassment for her) and began gathering up the rest of the supplies to put away.

"You got a little…" Oliver said suddenly, pointing to her blouse.

Glancing down, she realized she had smudged some of the cream on her top.

With a roll of her eyes, she told him to stay put (never tiring of her private puppy joke) and went to get changed. After ridding herself of her work clothes, and opting for some yoga-pants and a baggy shirt, Felicity traipsed back into her living room, only to be met with the penetrating stare of one Oliver Queen as he raked in her appearance.

"You T-shirt bandit," he chuckled, eyes narrowed in a faux-glare.

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"That," he pointed to her torso, "is mine."

Felicity bit her lip, glancing down at the large grey shirt that hung off her frame, it dawning on her that he was right. It had been another one of his that he had a habit of leaving behind in her apartment after one of their many recent movie nights, which she had dutifully washed…but conveniently forgotten to return.

Nothing suspicious about that…

"Meh," she shrugged, walking back over to the couch, and sitting down, "it looks better on me…like a lot of stuff you own," she teased.

His heart leapt in his chest as he remembered exactly how she had looked when she donned his hood.

Clearing his throat, he conceded, "you're not wrong…" before a large yawn escaped him.

"You want something to eat before bed?" she asked, not even caring how that sounded.

He shook his head, instead lifting his legs up to lie flat against the couch, shuffling a little to give her more space. Upon seeing his long frame fighting to fit, she rolled her eyes and placed a hand on his shoulder, tipping him back gently to lay against her, his head resting on her thighs.

The movement surprised her just as much as it did him, but she rationalized her boldness with still being in shock and just wanting to be close to him, to reassure herself that he was fine, that was all.

After a few moments, she felt him relax, the tension draining from his body as his eyes slipped closed.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're really comfortable?" he murmured softly, turning slightly into her, his nose an inch from her stomach, his hand falling on her hip.

Felicity stared down at him, her eyes drinking in his face, which was for once free of any worry, pain, anger, fear, panic or anguish. It made him look younger. She imagined it was a lot how he looked before the island…

"Maybe I was a chair in my past-life," she joked, resisting the urge to run her fingers through his hair.

"Do you believe in reincarnation?" he asked, his voice akin to a five-year-old as he began to drift off.

"Oh wow. We're in that part of the sleep-over now, huh?" she couldn't help but laugh gently.

He merely hummed in response, burying even closer to her, his face pressing against her stomach, a soft sound omitting from his lips.

Was he… _purring_?

Unable to stop herself, Felicity wove her hand in his hair, feeling the vibration of the little noises he was making in the back of his throat, as her fingers raked through the short tresses of dirty-blond hair.

She made Oliver Queen purr.

Or you know, enough drugs to make Walter White blush, made him purr, whatever.

Bottom line: Oliver Queen was sprawled out on her couch, purring like a kitten, looking like a puppy, and feeling like the warmest, safest, and best place she'd ever want to be…

With that final thought, Felicity Smoak let her eyes close, allowing the tenderness of the moment override her previous anxieties of the day, content that at least for now, everything was fine…

**A/N: So this got a little fluffier/sappier than I'm used to lol. Hope you enjoyed anyway!**


	7. Happiness and Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Felicity Smoak?” Felicity asked as she turned to him, her head tilted as she put on her earring. Oliver frowned at her from across the room, fixing his left cufflink. 
> 
> “Felicity Queen?” he countered, with a quirked eyebrow.
> 
> At her pursed lips, he rolled his eyes, “Felicity…Smoak-Queen?”
> 
> She laughed, “that makes me sound like a monster from Lost.”
> 
> There was a beat of silence, in which she mourned the many, many references that flew over his head.
> 
> “I like it,” she smirked with a shrug. “I could totally pull off the woman-who-hyphenates vibe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Anonymous Prompted – Names. Hope you enjoy! :D**

“Felicity Smoak?” Felicity asked as she turned to him, her head tilted as she put on her earring. 

Oliver frowned at her from across the room, fixing his left cufflink. 

“Felicity Queen?” he countered, with a quirked eyebrow.

At her pursed lips, he rolled his eyes, “Felicity…Smoak-Queen?”

She laughed, “that makes me sound like a monster from Lost.”

There was a beat of silence, in which she mourned the many, many references that flew over his head.

“I like it,” she smirked with a shrug. “I could totally pull off the woman-who-hyphenates vibe.”

He threw her a small smile, the same one she’d been seeing more and more of lately, before draping a dark green tie around his neck.

“Here, let me. We’ll be here all night otherwise,” she faux-grumbled, crossing the room in three strides to stand opposite him.

Oliver bent his knees slightly, staring down at her as her nimble fingers began to work his tie. She was much shorter than usual, as she had yet to put on her heels. But she was no less beautiful. His eyes drank in the tight, emerald dress that clung to her curves, lingering over the exposed skin of her collar bones and shoulders, his throat drying, making it difficult to swallow. She always had this effect on him, ever since the very first time he’d seen her properly dressed up on The Dodger case. But ever since Slade-gate, it was getting harder and harder to ignore and hide his reaction to her, no matter what she was wearing…

“There,” she breathed, her gaze catching his, widened slightly as if she didn’t realize just how close they were standing, her hand trailing down his tie, smoothing it against his chest, “all done…”

“Thank you,” he murmured, keeping eye contact for a second longer, before clearing his throat and stepping back a little and offering her his arm.

“Shall we, future Mrs Smoak-Queen?”

She stared at him for a moment, her orbs flickering, her tongue peeking out to swipe at her lower lip, an indistinguishable expression on her face, before she reached out and clasped his arm, “lead the way, Mr. Queen…”

~*~ 

Frederica Leopardi was a wealthy Italian socialite that the team had been tracking for a few weeks. Most of her work seemed above board, her donations to local and international charities, programmes she set up for the underprivileged around her home country and the U.S., her involvement in the re-building of Starling General Hospital, and subsequent purchasing of new equipment and drugs…but when a large consignment of new pharmaceuticals that were due to go to said hospital, were inexplicably re-routed to Tuscany, Felicity Smoak began to get suspicious.

Leopardi first came onto Felicity’s radar when she was seen being very friendly with one of their recent bad-guys-of-the-week Edgar Delaney, now-known human-trafficker at a party she and Oliver crashed a few months back. The tech genius had taken note of her since then, keeping tabs just in case, and the more she dug into the woman’s life, the more it seemed that she may be onto something. 

From shell companies, shoddy book-cooking, and suspicious wire-transfers to unsavoury characters, the socialite was clearly not in as squeaky-clean as her public-persona made her seem. Which made the shipment of prescription drugs to her home country instead of the promised charity, even more suspect. That, and the woman’s sudden change of itinerary, bringing her back to her Italian home when she was due to make an important appearance at the re-opening of Starling General Hospital. 

“Remind me again why we had to work out what your new name would be if you married me?” Oliver murmured into Felicity’s ear as they walked ever closer to Leopardi’s impressive mansion in the beautiful Tuscan countryside.

“Hey, don’t forget the ‘let’s tell the criminal romantic we’re engaged to wrangle an invite to her exclusive party’ was your bright idea!” she hissed before shrugging, “Digg thought we should be thorough,” she added, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down her body as his breath bounced off her skin, “shouldn’t that be one of the things we know just in case she asks?”

“There’s not gonna be a pop quiz, Felicity,” he half-whispered, angling his body closer to her, nodding to the guards before giving their names.

As one of the large men scanned down the guest list, Felicity felt herself tense, holding her breath. Oliver’s hand tightened on her waist, silently willing her to calm.

“Benvenuto Mr. Queen, Ms. Smoak,” the man said in a voice that did not convey welcome whatsoever, “Madame Leopardi is expecting you…”

“Grazie,” Oliver replied before leading them into the house, his hand still placed against her, his fingers lightly brushing the skin of her lower back.

“I never did like pop quizzes,” Felicity began lowly as they stepped into the foyer, her stomach fluttering at the touch of his hand on her exposed skin.

“I just don’t like when something is randomly sprung on me—”

“Like a masked vigilante bleeding out in your backseat?” he asked as they huddled together, offering plastered-on-smiles to the passing guests.

“Oh please, that was more like college finals than a pop quiz,” she rolled her eyes, taking the glass of champagne he snatched from a waiter.

“Boring?” he queried with raised eyebrows.

“Something that kept me awake at night, but was ultimately worth more than I could have ever imagined,” she smiled, her cheeks burning at that admission, she opting to take a large gulp of champagne to quench any desire to begin her patented babbling.

Oliver’s gaze softened at her words, a warmth spreading in his chest. But before he could respond, a tall brunette caught his eye as she made their way towards them.

“Mr. Queen, Ms. Smoak…I’m so glad you could make it,” Frederica smiled her 100 watt smile, air-kissing them both and stepping back to observe them.

“Such a cute couple you make…” she sighed, hand on her heart, “are you sure I cannot tell a soul of your impending nuptials? It just doesn’t seem right that the whole world doesn’t know that Oliver Queen, playboy extraordinaire has finally been tamed!”

Felicity laughed, “oh I’m not sure I tamed him…more like he brought out my wild side.”

Oliver shook his head, those words conjuring something in him that for the purposes of the mission and his sanity, he had to ignore.

“I bet he did,” the Italian winked with a knowing grin.

Finally Felicity found someone who appreciated her usually-inappropriate innuendos! Pity she was a criminal…

“Oh when I first ran into you two I knew you were destined to be together,” the older woman continued dreamily, sipping her wine.

“Oh?” Felicity asked, keeping her talking, knowing that Oliver needed this time to survey the room.

“Oh yes,” Leopardi nodded seriously, “I mean really, your names say it all…”

Oliver didn’t have to be looking at Felicity to know that she was just confused by that statement as he.

“Oh, you don’t know? Your names!” Frederica admonished, “Oliver, by Norse definition, means affectionate. Felicity, by English definition, means happiness. Affection and happiness. That is most definitely a good omen for you both, no?”

Oliver’s attention was drawn back to the conversation as the woman’s words sank in. 

His Felicity, Slade had said. His happiness…

It scared him just how right that sounded.

At their stunned silence, the elder woman waved her hands, a chuckle erupting from her, “oh don’t look so surprised my American friends, one minute in your presence and anybody can tell that you two shall be in the 50 per cent that’ll live a long and happy married life. Now,” she clapped her hands, “I must do my hosting duties and attend to some more of my guests. Please, help yourselves to the free alcohol and food, be merry and in love! I shall check in with you later. Ciao!”

And with that, she disappeared with a flourish, into the crowd.

After a moment of staring at the spot Frederica just vacated, Felicity found her voice.

“She may be a criminal and all…but you gotta admit, she’s got pizzazz.”

Oliver nodded, not trusting himself to look at her as he forced himself into mission-mode.

“The guards’ shift changes in three minutes. Will you be ready to hack the security system by then?”

“Please,” he practically felt her roll her eyes, “after all this time, you really have to ask?” 

It was then he turned to her, his breath catching as he again was wowed by her beauty, her golden hair shining and falling onto her shoulders in soft, tantalizing tresses.

“No…” he breathed, his hand reaching out and taking hers seemingly on its own accord, “if finding out my secret was like your college finals, then you joining the team was like me learning to shoot an arrow.”

“An embarrassing failure?” she quipped, remembering his story of how he first struggled with archery.

“No,” he shook his head, a soft smile on his face, “life-altering…and one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

She gaped at him, her lips parted, yet no sound omitting from them.

Felicity Smoak: lost for words. He never thought he’d see the day.

“One minute before shift change, you ready?” he asked, breaking the spell that had engulfed them.

She nodded, clearing her throat, gulping down the last of her champagne before turning back to him, an enigmatical smile on her face.

“Happiness and Affectionate huh? We make quite the pair…”

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Keep the prompts coming! :D**

**Author's Note:**

> **So these are prompts I receive from Tumblr. Please feel free to send me one! My Tumblr username is octoberobserver :)**


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